


Stealing Steve

by aglaya



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Barely inferred abuse for Billy, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Boys with feelings, First Kiss, Gay Billy Hargrove, M/M, blood I guess?, drunk billy, not like in a weird way more in a Billy cuts his hand cuz he’s drunk, sorry ya’ll, this is my first ever fic so I’m stressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aglaya/pseuds/aglaya
Summary: Okay so this is my first ever fic. It’s gonna be six shortish chapters, which are basically just connected drabbles, based on Billy stealing Steve but in a good way like touches and kisses and maybe even his heart. This is going to be very fluffy because I’m still a hopeless romantic. I’ll add tags as I go because there’ll be some other characters popping up for sure.The first time Billy stole a piece of Steve it was like a lost man holding up his local corner store with a hardly passable fake gun and his Mother’s old fishnets on his head; desperate and afraid.





	Stealing Steve

**Author's Note:**

> So I’m sorry if this is bad, I am terrified, comments and constructive criticism are very very welcome. I hope you enjoy my contribution to the fandom I’ll try and write and upload all the other chapters by the end of the week, enjoy!
> 
> Also plug to my tumblr @girlslovefeminists

The first time Billy stole a piece of Steve it was like a lost man holding up his local corner store with a hardly passable fake gun and his Mother’s old fishnets on his head; desperate and afraid. 

Billy knows he’s beyond wrecked right now, he’s gotten through so many bottles of beer that he’s been smashing them into trees for at least five minutes and he still has a ways to go before he’s out. The flashlight in his face feels like the fucking second coming of Jesus.  
“Billy? What the shit are you doing out here, you realise you’re about ten feet away from being in my backyard” says the preppy, pretty fuckface who needs to wear longer shorts in gym. Billy suddenly notices the heated pool in the near distance, annoyed at himself for being so oblivious during his midnight temper tantrum.  
“Well I could say the same to you, you dumb person” Billy grimaces at his own lack of imagination in his inebriated state. “Now get that shit out of my face before you scald my retinas” he slurs, Steve lowers his light but Billy still catches his confused expression as he says “Retinas? Those are things in your eye right?” Billy barely spares him a withering look as Steve averts his gaze mumbling about there being more to a person than book smarts.  
“S’fine drunk Billy knows more words than normal Billy, gotta keep up appearances and shit” Steve offers a hint of a grin at the other boys semi attempt at boosting his self esteem.  
“And what appearances are those tough guy, that you can handstand a keg in under two minutes?” Billy’s drunken state and general anger doesn’t care for Steve’s flippant remark about shit he doesn’t know about so he clenches his fist, ready to fight. Now drunk Billy had forgotten all about the glass beer bottle in his hand, hence his dumbfounded expression when blood starts dripping from his fingers.  
“Oh” is all the syllables Billy can really muster right now so he drops to his knees and slumps as tears start quietly rolling down his blank face, unwilling to find the energy for anything other than despair. 

“Shit, Billy, what the fuck - your hand” more words along those lines are coming out of Steve in rapid succession as he looks in every direction, until finally settling on Billy’s face, not really sure where to divert his abundance of energy to in this increasingly unexpected situation. He takes a breath and stills as he crouches to gingerly take Billy’s hand, turning the palm upwards and holding the flashlight between his teeth as he slowly starts the process of removing glass from flesh. He keeps trying to read Billy’s face between discarding each shard but it remains impassive, the only markers of emotion are the drying tears glistening on his tanned skin in the moonlight. When all the glass is out Steve doesn’t really know where to put his hands. He brings them to his own lap but that feels wrong somehow, so he shuffles round until he and Billy are sitting side by side as he takes his injured hand in his own and whispers into the delicate silence “Do you want to talk about it?”

Billy’s heart twists at the words he’s hearing, not believing he is worthy of taking away someone’s time with warbling about his shit. He doesn’t know if it’s Steve’s words or the erosion of the alcohol but a dam breaks in his mind. A dam that holds his repressed emotions, a dam that holds all those queer impulses at bay when he has to shower with sweaty, delectable boys.  
So Billy turns. He practically falls onto Steve, holding himself by the other boys shoulders, grabbing fabric and pressing his lips so desperately onto Steve’s he doesn’t think there’s a molecule between them. He wants to be absorbed by him. 

Steve is still. Processing. Not rejecting. Thinking. Realising something the moment Billy jerks harshly backwards his eyes holding an emotion he can’t quite place as he tries to scramble away in abject horror. Then Steve is grabbing, catching the boys denim shouting “Wait” into the night. Steve is pulled forward by his grip on the other boy until they’re face to face kneeling in the mud - Billy, unable to look anywhere but the ground, feels paralysed with fear and self loathing. Then the preppy, pretty boy is slowly leaning forward with a look of confused realisation and then he’s pressing the softest kiss imaginable to Billy’s parted lips. It’s slow and gentle and barely lasts ten seconds but both boys feel more at peace in that moment than either of them have in years. 

Billy thinks that if Steve were to be anything other than Steve he would definitely be a jelly baby. Okay maybe he’s still pretty drunk but he’s sure sober Billy would agree with him on this one. Steve’s still looking pretty bewildered at, well, everything but his cheeks are flushed and he can’t quite keep the corners of his mouth from turning up.  
“Will you let me clean up your hand?” Steve softly inquires as he strokes the injured fingers with both his own hands. Billy just nods - catching Steve’s eyes with a look of such devastating openness, he has the urge to never ever let him go. So he slowly stands, pulling Billy up as he does, and leads him to his still open back door feeling like he’d just given a part of himself away, but ultimately deciding that he doesn’t give a fuck because Billy’s hand is so warm in his.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you’re feeling it or some constructive criticism this is unbetad so sorry for any mistakes!


End file.
